


Thomas and James Explore Kinks

by khazadspoon



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Beads, Cock Cages, Cock Warming, Hair-pulling, Kink Exploration, Lingerie, M/M, PWP, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Size Difference, Smut, Spanking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khazadspoon/pseuds/khazadspoon
Summary: As per my request on Tumblr, I've written a bunch of kink related flinthamilton ficlets. And for once I'm actually putting them somewhere other than my blog. No idea how many there will end up being but it's an ongoing thing! Enjoy.





	1. Lingerie

“I feel… a little bit like a let down,” Thomas said under his breath, tugging at the garter around his thigh. The stockings were soft, at least, but it was the only thing he had on and even James’ heated gaze wouldn’t make him feel less like he had under performed. But it wasn’t his fault they didn’t have anything that fit! Being tall and, if he wasn't being modest, rather broad, most stores didn't stock such items in his size. This little challenge that James had set was clearly in James' favour.

The man himself fiddled with the robe he wore, slowly untying the belt and looking coyly at Thomas from under his lashes. “Hopefully this will make up for things.”

He dropped the robe and Thomas felt the breath leave his lungs, the blood in his body rushing to his cock fast enough to make him feel dizzy.

James stood before him in a dark lace chemise that was almost see through. The fabric clung to the muscles of his chest, accentuating the roundness there, and flowed down to the cut of his hips. Thomas could see his nipples were peaked, could see where the fabric of the chemise had rubbed and excited him. There was a tantalising show of pink through the sheer fabric and Thomas wanted to rush forward, to lave James' nipples with his tongue and to bite them, to hear James' sharp intake of breath as he did.

James turned, showing off the outfit and with a jolt of lust Thomas noticed his lover was wearing a thong that barely concealed how much the outfit had affected him. The curve of his hardening cock stretched the panties and Thomas’ mouth began to water.

“ _Good_ _God,”_ he husked, “James, you’re beautiful.”

James flushed red, the colour standing out against the paleness of his skin and the black of the lingerie. But despite the embarrassment he came to sit in Thomas’ lap and drape his arms over the man’s shoulders. “You like it?” He asked softly, his voice breathy and seductive, more so than Thomas had known it to be before. The game had taken over, made James play into his role as the seductress between them. Thomas nodded in response and cupped the delightful swell of James’ ass, ground their hips together, moaning at the feel of silk and lace against his bare skin.

James hummed low in his throat and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “ _Fuck_ me, Thomas,” he said, pressing their chests together.

Thomas threw him on the bed and crushed their mouths together in a kiss, trying to be delicate as the moved the thong aside and losing all sense of calm when he felt the base of the plug James had in. That hadn’t been part of the game, but dear  _God_  did Thomas love it when James cheated. He bit at the column of James' neck, sucked a dark bruise into the pale skin and drank the moans dripping from James' lips.

Sliding into James was always enough to bring Thomas close to the edge. But seeing James spread out for him, dressed in black and moaning so prettily, it was enough to make Thomas’ balls draw tight. He gripped the base of his cock and took deep, steadying breaths before moving.

“ _Fuck_!” James arched against him, his hair spilling out over the pillow and Thomas couldn’t help the broken sound that fell from his lips. James was a vision; pale skin, freckles, black lace and silk, every inch of him screaming  _sex_  and  _lust_  and Thomas was nearly powerless to resist.

He fucked James until he screamed, hand rubbing his cock and ruining the silk of the thong. Thomas followed moments later with a shout of James’ name.

As they curled up in bed together later, clean and warm, James dozing on his chest, Thomas wondered how he might look in blue.


	2. Collars or Cravats

They had explored the idea before; whispers of  _mine_ and a firm hand on James’ neck, the feeling of belonging and  _safe_ making James fall into that place where nothing but Thomas mattered. He had put one of Thomas’ shirts on and felt  _owned._ It had been… good. It had been better than good; James had given himself over to Thomas completely and had carried the marks on his body with secret pride for the few days they were apart. 

Thomas had let James tie one of his gown belts around his waist once, had worn it home and held it fast at night as he fell asleep. The physical reminder of Thomas was grounding; he found the idea of being tied to Thomas, either physically or figuratively, enticing. He particularly enjoyed the marks Thomas left on his skin; bruises from kisses and hard grips, bites and scratches. He left his own on Thomas but they were reactionary in nature, they weren’t… They didn’t mean…

They didn’t make Thomas  _his_. Not like the marks made him  _Thomas’._ The distinction was vast in James' mind.

It was almost a month after that first kiss, after the dizzying knowledge that nothing would ever be the same, when Thomas presented him with a gift. A small, flat, neatly wrapped box.

“It’s a small token,” he had said, cheeks pink and gaze fixed on the curve of James’ neck. James resisted the urge to reach up and press a finger to the bruise there, just to feel the dull pain. Thomas did it for him, kissed the corner of his mouth to taste the gasp he made and put a hand on the box. “I can’t exactly claim you publicly, can’t put a ring on your finger or a collar around your neck but… I can do this.”

In the box was a silken cravat; black, soft and clearly worth more than a month’s rent in James’ world, and monogrammed in the corner was-

“ _T.H.._..” James whispered, his breath halting in his chest and his heart swelling. “This is…  _Thomas._ ”

He couldn’t think of what to say. Words left him,  _sense_ left him, and all he could do was leap into Thomas’ arms and kiss him until neither of them had breath to speak. He felt the swell of Thomas’ cock and basked in the burst of pride it brought forth in him.

“Do you like it?” Thomas asked gently, his hands moving over James’ back. 

James nodded. He handed the box to Thomas and removed the cravat he had worn to dinner that night, revealing the marks Thomas had left the night before, and silently asked for Thomas to adorn him with the gift. 

Thomas draped it around his neck, carefully arranged it so the  _T.H._ was just out of sight, pressed to James’ skin. He fixed it into place, fingers brushing James' jawline and stroking the skin, the bristle of James' stubble rasping as he traced a line from his ear to the edge of the cravat.

“Now I’m yours wherever I go,” James breathed into the air between them, so little left in the room but what need did he have for air? All he needed was Thomas, all he needed was  _this._


	3. Beads and Praise

James is panting, his breath forming a damp patch on the pillow beneath his cheek. There is a dark flush making its way down his back and Thomas can’t help but stroke a hand fondly over the spreading pink. It’s as though James’ blood is seeking him out, reaching for him as he gently thrusts his fingers. 

James moans and shifts his hips back. He is desperate, for another finger, for Thomas’ tongue or his cock,  _anything_ , and he is pleading for Thomas to  _get on with it_. 

“Soon, love,” Thomas purrs back, “I’ll let you have it soon.”

He had been to town that week, had seen something that had caught his eye. It wasn’t unfamiliar; Miranda had introduced him to the idea before, her slick fingers slender and uncalloused but the gruffness of the voice she put on making Thomas think of past lovers, she had filled him and he had thanked her. The thing sat beside him on the bed, lacquered wood gleaming in the lamplight, called silently to him.  _Use me. Use me on **him**. You know he’ll cry for you._

And as he presses the first oiled bead in, James  _does_ cry. He lets out a sob, half-broken, and reaches back to hold himself open to take  _more._

Thomas bites at the meat of his lover’s thigh as he pushes the second bead in. James is sobbing openly and messily by the third bead and his fingers are forming bruises on his own ass. Thomas can barely contain the lust broiling in his gut at the sight; James, so proud and stern, a man of strength and command, opening for him and begging for release, his tongue lolling out as he drools and becomes a mindless mass of  _need_ on their bed. 

“So good,” he whispers, one hand falling to palm his own cock. He wants to bury himself in James, to rut and fuck until there is nothing but the sound of their bodies joining. He wants to pull James’ hair and spank him, to see that pretty round backside bounce and shake as he fucks it. And he knows, he  _knows_ James would welcome it. James had suggested  _this_  after all, had pressed the coin into Thomas’ hand when they had passed the toy on the market stall. 

“Thomas,” James growls, his hips canting towards Thomas. “If you don’t- If you don’t finish what you started-”

A slap. James shouts, high and shocked, before moaning lewdly into the pillow. 

“You’ll do what?” He says lowly. James’ ass is glowing pink from the force of the slap and it makes Thomas’ cock twitch between his thighs. _God_ how he loves James' skin; so easy to mark, so easy to bruise and redden. “You will do as you’re told, boy. As  _I_ tell you.”

James makes a broken sound, the tension in his shoulders seeping out of him and his body going lax. Thomas pushes the next bead in, forces a shiver from James’ prone form, marveling at just how  _beautiful_  James is in his submission. How beautiful he has always been in this state.

“ _Please_ , sir, I- I need-” James sobs openly and turns as best he can, gazes at Thomas with wet eyes and swollen lips, no doubt from biting them to stifle the undignified noises he was making. “ _Please_  let me come.”

Thomas doesn’t answer, though the title and the _please_ send shivers through him. He pushes the last bead in, twists them to hear James’ shivery sigh, and runs his hands over the length of his lover’s back. “In a little while, love, in a little while.”

He wraps a hand around himself, squeezes and tugs at his cock to stoke the fire in his belly. The sight of James before him, spread out and slick with oil, is enchanting. He leans down to lick and kiss at James’ hole, holds James’ hips still as he bucks and cries out, tears falling from his eyes in earnest as Thomas teases him to the point of near-pain. 

And James  _must_ be in pain; the tie around his cock has kept him hard, has stopped him from reaching his end for nearly two hours now. Thomas has half a mind to keep him like that until he has had his fill. He almost wants to pull the beads free and fuck James until he begs him to stop. Part of him wants to simply stroke himself until he comes over James' broad and muscled back.

Instead he strokes James’ aching cock, drinks in the low whine that comes from his love’s throat, and loosens the tie. James shivers, shudders,  _trembles_ as Thomas strokes him lovingly. 

“You’ve been so good, James,” he murmurs against the skin of James’ lower back. “Come now, show me.”

James comes with a near silent scream, his mouth wide and eyes rolled back into his head, the small sound turning loud and broken as Thomas pulls the beads free one by one. 

“Good boy,” he says, stroking James through his orgasm, “good boy.”


	4. Spanking

He is being difficult, he knows; snapping at Thomas, poking at him and refusing to sit still, arguing for arguments sake just to rile the man up, just to disappoint him. The office is thick with tension and James can feel it thrumming under his skin. He needs…. he doesn’t know what he needs, but he knows he needs _something_.

When he mutters something under his breath, arms crossed over his chest like a belligerent child, Thomas goes silent.

Thomas puts his pencil down carefully on the desk, takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He pushes a few things from the far end of the desk and says, voice cold and flat; “bend over the desk.”

A flutter of fear- no, not fear, something else, something just as base and primal, settles in his chest and low in his belly. He rises, cheeks already heating up, before leaning his elbows on the desk.

A ruler taps his elbow hard. “Not like that. You know what I expect, James.”

In an almost whisper he replies “breeches down, cheek on the wood,” the words a familiar psalm by now, and follows the unspoken order. He is already hard, already feels the tug of lust as he hears Thomas move to stand behind him. He wants Thomas to hold him down by the neck, to take him and make him _scream-_

“You’ve been bad, James.”

“Yes.”

A smack with the ruler to his lower back, wood catching his skin, and he swallows the hiss. “Is that any way to address your superior?”

James _does_ hiss then as another smack hits his flank, flinches even as he presses his hips back. “Y-yes, sir.”

Not Lord, not here. They are not Lord and commoner here; they are master and servant, of a kind. James does not know the words for what they are.

The address seems to please Thomas. He puts a hand on James’ hip, thumb rubbing in circles, before he pulls away.“Your behaviour has been unseemly and, as befitting a petulant child, I shall punish you like one.”

James’ pulse is hammering when Thomas’ palm hits him for the first time. The palm of Thomas' hand, large and steady, slaps against the round of his backside. He gasps, flinches, grits his teeth against the urge to snap again and ask “is that all you’ve got?” Anyone else and he would have. Instead he ducks his head and accept the punishment.

As Thomas begins to spank him, his hand moving hard and fast against James’ skin, James can’t help but cry out and whimper. He feels wetness in his eyes and let’s the tears fall. He shouts as Thomas lands three harsh smacks in quick succession. His cock aches and his mind is slowly becoming empty but for the need for  _more_ , for Thomas to put him back where he belongs-

“Are you ready to apologise, boy?” Thomas asks between slaps. James shakes his head. _Not yet, don't stop, don't stop touching me._  “Very well.”

He continues in a rush, and James can’t stop the shouts tumbling from his lips or the tears that stream down his cheeks. He is openly weeping, the reaction completely at odds with the deep sense of calm and relief that had settled in his bones.

It is ten minutes later when he begs Thomas to stop. The pain has started to become to much, and he knows there will be bruises on him, knows he won’t be able to sit properly for days but- it is all worth it for that feeling of redemption. James is already looking forward to squirming under Thomas' knowing gaze. 

“Now?” Thomas says expectantly, fingers trailing over the sensitive skin of James’ ass.

“I’m- I’m sorry, sir,” he manages in a rush of breath. His chest is heaving and his cock has softened, even though there is arousal settled deep in his gut as Thomas kisses the jut of his shoulder blade.

“Good boy, James, good,” he says in a low voice, “you took it so well.”

He moans at the praise and let’s Thomas lift him and press their bodies together. As they kiss, James knows he is forgiven.


	5. In Public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve got an idea that bean helped me with and its pretty in depth but here have random porn that goes in that ‘verse. Basically Thomas is rescued early and ends up being voted Quartermaster. Quartermasters get to fuck their captains as a show of trust and stuff, like that thing i wrote where Flint got initiated as a captain by fucking Teach and Vane…… wow i write a lot of porn.

He knows who won the moment fingers touch his cheek. The blindfold stops him from  _seeing_ , but he knows that touch, didn’t forget it in the years they were apart and the relief falls audibly from his lips. 

Thomas’ fingers are gentle as they take the blindfold from his eyes, and from his place in the chair dragged from the captain’s cabin, James can only see Thomas and not the crowd around them. The  _Walrus_ ’ crew, joined by members of the  _Ranger’_ s crew including its captain. He knows they are there but there is nothing beyond the bright blue of Thomas’ eyes and the warmth of his breath as he leans to kiss James’ forehead. 

“You’re still alright with this?” Thomas says. James can do little but nod, rising from his chair and letting Thomas sit. 

He sinks to his knees and kisses each of Thomas’ knuckles, tongue peaking out to taste the salt-kissed skin as he unfastens the front of Thomas’ breeches. 

A memory of their old life, of London and the spring of their love comes to mind. Thomas, bright and young and whispering in his ear of how he would take James to one of his fancy gatherings, strip him bare, and have him right there in the midst of all the Lords and Lady’s of high society. James had shivered and succumb to the idea and Thomas’ touch. He had imagined it in detail by himself, stroking his cock and coming to the idea of being shown off. 

And now it is reality.

He pulls Thomas out of his breeches and sucks eagerly on his cock, moans obscenely not  _in spite_ of the audience around them but  _because_ of it. He wants to show the men around them that he is devoted to Thomas, both as his captain and as his lover. He wants them all to see how well he performs and for them to want him, to want him but be unable to have him.

Thomas tugs on his hair, controls the movement of his mouth for a minute until James’ jaw aches. He feels Thomas' cock hit the back of his throat and opens up, relaxes, lets Thomas cut off his air for blissful seconds at a time. As he pulls James up, turns him toward the crowd and pulls the fabric from his hips, James takes a moment to look at the faces of the men; they are equal parts red-faced, embarrassed, aroused and amused all at once. Vane is smirking, a hand at his lip, and Rackham is staring open-mouthed at them. Off to one side Billy is blushing red, awkwardly holding his arms across his chest.

James makes a show of stripping and gasps as Thomas takes the plug from his ass. A precaution, he had said. No matter who won the vote Thomas would not abide James being hurt. 

“Now, love,” Thomas mutters, hands skimming over the sensitive expanse of James’ sides. 

James settles him self, slipping down inch by inch onto Thomas’ cock and it is  _exquisite._ He throws his head back, moans long and loud, steadies himself with hands on the sides of the chair so that Thomas can thrust up into him hard and fast. Just as he likes. As  _Thomas_ likes.

Curses and moans fall from his lips in a steady stream and he knows how he looks; lewd and flushed, taken entirely by Thomas in this way that no other man can touch him. He starts to move with Thomas, finding a rhythm that sparks lightning in his veins and makes his cock throb between his thighs. 

He comes with a shout, not a hand needed on his cock, exposed to the world and crying out as Thomas fucks him harder. 

He doesn’t even feel the hands easing him down after, the moments between then and now fading into black. But Thomas is there, kissing him, telling him how  _well_ he did, how  _good_ he is and how Thomas is  _proud_ of him- 

And that’s all he could have ever wanted. 


	6. Voyeur

It is late as he came down the stairs, the servants all in their beds downstairs or in their homes, and James fiddled with the buttons on his coat as he walked towards the hallway that would lead him away from the safe bubble of the Hamilton’s home. Miranda had tempted him into staying a little longer.  _Thomas is away for the night_ , she said,  _I’ll be alone and oh so bored,_ she had touched his cheek and kissed him,  _stay a little while, keep me warm._

And he had. She had curled against him and shared his warmth, their sweat-damp skin drying and their blood cooling. But time ticked away and before long it was nearly midnight. 

As James rounded the corner, the dining room in sight, he heard a muffled gasp. Fear pricked at his skin, his stomach dropping, and then it happened again. A gasp, a thud, a soft moan-

There was light coming from Thomas’ office.

Silently, he crept closer, thick rugs masking the sounds of his boots. He peaked through the almost-shut door and-

His heart stopped. 

Thomas was not alone. 

There was a man, stocky, well build, dark haired and unrecognisable with his back turned, holding Thomas to the bookcase. Thomas had one long leg wrapped around the man’s hip and he- he looked- 

James had to bite his lip to hold in the shocked and wanting gasp that threatened to escape. But even as his mind swam ( _it’s possible, he might- he might feel as you do, it’s **possible**_ ) his cock began to swell. Blood rushed to his groin and cheeks, heating his face and making his breeches tighten. He watched as Thomas’ face contorted in pleasure, as the blond bit his own lip to stifle the noises that might fall from them and  _God_ did James’ soul yearn to hear those sounds… He wanted to be the one  _making_ those sounds, to feel Thomas against him, the heavy weight of his body and the touch of his lips-

Thomas’ paramour moved, hitched Thomas’ leg higher and gripped him tighter. In a rush James realised that this was not just some fumble with hands but  _sodomy_. Thomas was allowing that man to- to  _touch_ him in such a way that could, in effect, have them both hanged. But even that thought didn’t quell the  _need_ rising in James’ chest. Thomas was being fucked by some nameless man in his office, clearly loving every second of it and James was  _burning._

Slowly, as though tricking himself into believing it wasn’t truly his own action, James pressed a hand to the front of his breeches. He felt the slow burn of his own arousal heighten, stirred further by the soft whine that came from Thomas against the bookcase. The man fucking him grunted lowly, buried his face in Thomas’ neck and Thomas bit off a choked moan. James pressed harder, rubbed slowly, let the rhythm of his palm match the scene in front of him.

Jealousy, thick and oozing and _vile_ , filled James’ body. He took his hand from himself and dug his nails into his palm, a small and biting punishment, before quietly leaving as fast as he could. 

The walk to his lodgings was quiet and dark. He felt sick. But still, in his mind, he saw Thomas; beautiful, face slack in pleasure, those plush pink lips almost red from kisses and teeth-

He threw his coat off as soon as the door shut and leaned back, nearly ripped his breeches in order to reach his cock. 

He pictured Thomas as he touched himself, hand slick with his own slick just from the  _thought_ of Thomas. Thomas with his long, pale legs wrapped around James’ hips, Thomas’ bright eyes gazing up at him in adoration and  _lust_ , Thomas’ voice breaking as he reached his peak, the tight channel of him tightening _further_ and-

James groaned, broken and longing, as he came. The sickness didn’t leave him, the haze of orgasm dissipating as he thought of what he had done. 

 _“Voyeur,”_ he hissed to himself. “Sick bastard…” He wiped his hand on the seat of his pants, wishing suddenly to punch something, to fight and  _hurt_ -

But he had a meeting with Thomas tomorrow; he couldn’t show up with bruises and scabs, not again. So, instead, he forced himself to climb in bed and forget what he had seen. He begged himself to forget the pink of Thomas’ cheeks and the curl of his toes. 

He begged himself to forget that he was falling in love. 


	7. Cock Warmer

It had become almost a habit now. After they had joined, after they had touched and tasted one another enough to satisfy their baser urges, James would cling to him tightly and ask for them to stay as they were, “just for a little longer.”

Thomas could deny his lover very little in this world, let alone something that gave him his own twisted pleasure. To stay inside James was akin to coming home. Warm, comfortable, soothing and safe.

So, with their bodies still pressed together from shoulder to hip, Thomas would stay seated in James’ body. He would run his hands over the beautiful copper-flecked plains of James’ arms, his sides, his chest, and listen to the slowly evening breath coming from James’ lungs. 

James would mumble in his sleep, shift his hips and spike arousal through Thomas’ veins at times. But that didn’t matter; all that mattered was the content look on James’ sleeping face and the gentle way he would rouse to feel Thomas still inside him. The soft 'o' of his mouth when his mind caught up to the physical sensations of their bodies. 

“I love the feel of you,” James whispered one morning, his voice thick with sleep and comfort. “How you just…  _fit_.”

“Has no one ever fit before?” He couldn’t help asking, a small smile curving his lips despite himself. 

James huffed and squeezed his muscles, made Thomas shiver and thrust gently. “I’ve never wanted anyone to fit before. I’ve never…” He paused, took Thomas’ hand in his and twined their fingers together. “I feel- I feel  _safe_  with you inside me, I feel  _good._ I don’t want to let you go.”

Thomas’ heart pounded in his chest. He pressed as close as he could, wishing he could melt into James and seat himself in his lover’s chest, to live there for eternity. 

After that revelation Thomas took to staying inside James each chance they got. He would finish inside James, fill him and hear him cry out with his own release, and then settle them both down so that he could hold James. 

When penetration was too much, or impractical, James would suck him off and content himself with holding Thomas’ softening cock in his mouth until his jaw tired. He would sit, mouth full, for an hour or more, seeming to ground himself in the fullness of it. Thomas would spend the time writing or reading, absentmindedly running his fingers through James’ hair as he did, sometimes shivering as James’ contented moans vibrated through his cock. 

It had become habit, it had become normal, but he couldn’t fight the affection he felt each time James looked at him with a soft and peaceful smile. All because he  _fit_. 


	8. Cock Cage

He can’t get hard, can only feel the thrum of his pulse and the ever present ache in his balls as his body rocks in Thomas’ lap. There is a hand at his hip grasping and bruising him, a hand on the nape of his neck bringing him forward into a breathless kiss.

James has never felt so beautiful, so at peace, in his life.

The clasp on the cage around his cock rattles with each slap of Thomas’ hips. James moans at each sound, his spit soaking the makeshift gag in his mouth (one of Thomas’ old shirts ripped into strips, a gag and cuffs around his wrists, keeping him so wonderfully bound to Thomas’ will). His moans and gasps are muffled but he knows Thomas hears them. He can feel how they affect him with each harsh thrust, each sharp bite at his shoulder and each growl of “mine” against his skin.

And he _is_ Thomas’; heart, mind, body and soul. He has pledged himself to this man with word and action and no one, not even God or the Devil himself can break that promise.

When he is spent, Thomas lays beside him and fucks him idly with two long fingers. James bucks and shudders weakly, his mind falling into that beautifully soft and hazy space that comes with each of these nights. He feels small and perfectly calm, like the eye of a storm.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” Thomas says under his breath. His fingers rub against James’ prostate and he can hardly repress the shivering keen coming from his kiss-reddened lips. “Beautiful and so soft; look at you in your gilded cage… Do you want me to take it off? To let you finally gain something from this.”

James shakes his head hard, a sob wracking his chest. He is begging in his mind and he doesn’t want to get hard, doesn’t want to come and ruin the sense of fulfilment that being here like this for Thomas gives him. He doesn’t need release, doesn’t want it. And as Thomas skates a hand down his side and bites gently at his neck, Thomas hushes him.

“It’s alright my love,” he whispers, “you’re doing so well. You’re so good for me, James.”

The words are a tonic to James’ soul. He moans around the gag and curled against the man he loves, let’s the perfect warmth of him fill the world.


	9. Hair Pulling

It started innocently. Thomas was passing, saw a stray lock of hair out of James’ queue, and kissed James’ cheek whilst tugging it. 

James had gone bright red, a soft squeak coming from somewhere in his throat. 

A grin found its way to Thomas’ lips and he leaned in, breath tickling his lover’s ear. “Why, Lieutenant, what is this I’ve uncovered?” He murmured, drawing James to him and stroking a hand down his side. “Did you like that?”

They were past the point of shame, sharing all their  _unusual tastes._ Jame nodded and swallowed thickly. “I did,” he breathed. His body had gone rigid, the swell of his crotch noticeable even through the thick breeches he wore. Thomas brushed his hand over that bulge and listened to the delightful hitch in James’ breath. 

He pulled James’ queue and reveled in the sound of pure  _lust_ that dripped from James’ beautiful lips. 

It took minutes to get them both undressed, not much longer to get James on his knees on the bed, Thomas behind him and lapping at that place he was most sensitive. Not weeks ago James had been aghast at the idea; now he craved Thomas’ mouth, his tongue, his fingers. 

Thomas took James’ hair in one hand and tugged, bowing the man’s back as he licked into James as though his life depended on it. 

“Fuck, fuck,  _fuck,_ Thomas you-” James panted, his breath sharp and strained as his throat worked to take in air. Though Thomas could only see so much, what he  _did_ see was beyond beautiful. The perfect arch of James’ back, the freckles across his spine and ass, the tremble in his body as he worked hard to stay where Thomas wanted him. 

“Touch me!” James begged, thrusting back against Thomas’ lips with an almost desperate need. “Please, Thomas, my Lord, I beg you-  _fuck!”_

Thomas gripped his cock in one hand and pulled his hair tighter, lifting the sailor by his hair to lean against Thomas’ chest. 

“Come for me, James,” he kissed the column of James’ neck and bit down as James writhed against him. 

James came as though it were an order, his mouth dropping open and a sob falling from his lips as he painted Thomas’ hand with his release. 


	10. Cock Cage version 2

Thomas gifts it to him three months into their relationship. It was a silver coloured device, a thick round bar with a lock leading to rings of metal tapering to the rounded head, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand and… James’ cheeks coloured at the idea of what it was for. 

“Is that…?” He asked, taking the object in hand and feeling the weight of it. 

Later, blessedly alone in Thomas’ bed chamber, he looked at himself in the polished mirror. The cage was snug, a bar tight around his balls and holding him with delicious pressure, the metal skin-warm where it encased his cock. He took in the sight of himself, how his cock appeared smaller and  _kept_ in its cage. He knows Thomas is watching him from the bed, his eyes roaming over the reflection of him. He knows Thomas is watching him watching  _himself_  and it stirs the fire in his belly. 

His cock twitches, the metal cage preventing anything more, but it is the  _knowledge_ of it, that he cannot do more than react without Thomas’ permission, that drives the contented moan from his lips. He reaches down and palms himself. The metal was almost indistinguishable from his skin by touch and he almost tried to stroke himself through it. 

Thomas rose, walked to stand behind him and wrapped his arms around James’ waist. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “Just as I imagined…” There is pride in his voice, love, and James is falling in love all over again as Thomas runs his hands down his sides. 

“Have you thought of it often?” James can’t help asking. He smiles and leans back, lets Thomas take his weight. “Me, gilded and contained for you?”

Thomas hums deep in his chest and kisses his shoulder. “Often, yes. Though I never knew how  _much_ I would enjoy it.”

He makes love to James slowly, opening him until there is no resistance and James knows he will remember that night as long as he lives. 

====

Ten years later and he  _does_ remember. He remembers every sigh, every touch, every heated look Thomas had given him that night. He has treasured the memory for the past ten years, reliving it in his darkest hours. The cage is still warm where it rests against his skin, the key heavy on its rope around his neck. Sometimes, when he feels helpless and desperate, he will touch the key and contemplate throwing it into the sea. He has no use for his body now, not with both Thomas  _and_ Miranda gone. 

But instead he clutches the key tight, indentations forming in his skin with the pressure, and breaths as deeply as he can. Sometimes he can still smell Thomas’ skin. Sometimes he can still feel Thomas’ touch. It is a sweet torture. 

===

And then Thomas is  _there_. He is gasping and crying and saying his name over and over and  _over_ because neither of them knew that this was possible. Thomas is cradling his skull and kissing him, and it is as though James had been seeing the world in shadows for all those years. Suddenly there is light and colour, Sounds are sharper and things make  _sense_ once again. 

Later, laying in a small cot no where near big enough for two grown men, James presses Thomas’ hand to his crotch. 

“I want you to know that I- that I didn’t- I  _couldn’t-”_

Thomas kisses him, holds him tight and they’re both sobbing against one another again. James doesn’t know how there are tears enough left in his body but they don’t stop coming, He thinks it will be a long time before they cease to leap to his eyes when sees Thomas. 

“ _James_.”

Thomas’ voice is cracked, broken, both from disuse and emotion and James clutches at him.

It takes a month for them to settle into near-normalcy around each other. Thomas flinches less and less when James moves too fast. James lets his mind relax, his thoughts drifting to more pleasant things as he realises Thomas isn’t going anywhere. 

He doesn’t see Thomas naked until the end of that month. Thomas doesn’t see  _him_ naked until the end of that month. 

The heat of the day seeps away, leaving them sweat slicked and tired but James is restless. He feels like floating, as though a need is going unfulfilled and when he reaches for Thomas, Thomas doesn’t move away. As they kiss, Thomas is reaching  _back_ for him, tugging him closer and pressing the length of their bodies together. 

With a gasp Thomas pulls back. “You’re still..?”

James nods. “It seemed….  _wrong_ to take it off myself, when everything I am is yours to command.”

He hands Thomas the key and shudders as he is freed from his confinement. He does not harden, does not make a sound beyond a slow exhale of breath. He thinks  _I love you_  and knows that Thomas knows it. When Thomas lays them both on the bed they fashioned together, he presses a finger to James’ lips. James tastes the salt-sweat skin and sighs contentedly, presses himself to Thomas’ chest and suckles at his fingers as Thomas presses lazy fingers into him one by one. 

There is no haste, no rush towards orgasm as he thought there might be. There is only the taste of Thomas’ fingers, the feel of him between his thighs and the sound of his breath in James’ ear. They move together slowly, like that night in London all those years ago, and James cares little for his own release besides the pride it brings to Thomas’ expression.

When Thomas finishes, painting James from the inside and biting at his neck, he shivers. Tears fall from his eyes and he is shaking as he presses closer to James. 

“I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I love you  _so much_ _._ I’m so  _proud_ of you, for what you’ve done and how you’ve survived. I need you to know that- I need you to know how much I love you.”

James nods, speechless, chosing to curl into Thomas’ chest in lieu of breaking his own silence. 

And later, when Thomas puts the cage on him again, it is out of trust and comfort instead of denial and shame. 


End file.
